The Keeper
by childrenofmen
Summary: Clark Kent is more than comfortable with his simple life. Living under the radar, blending in with mankind. But when a mysterious woman wounds up injured on the Kent farm, Clark makes it his mission to nurse her back to health. However as he starts to get to know her he comes to the realization that they might share a lot more in common than he initially thought...
1. Chapter 1

**THE KEEPER : CHAPTER ONE**  
Title: The Keeper  
Author(s): childrenofmen  
Pairing/Characters: Clark Kent (SM) and Diana Prince (WW)  
Rating: T  
Warnings: Intimate situations will occurs.  
Summary: Clark Kent is more than comfortable with his simple life. Living under the raider, blending in with mankind. But when a mysterious woman wounds up injured on the Kent farm, Clark makes it his mission to nurse her back to health. However as he starts to get to know her he comes to the realization that they might share a lot more in common than he initially thought...

 _A huge thanks to nl8! You're a genius, as well as my hero._

* * *

Clark hitched his suede duffel bag over his shoulder with a whistling groan as he trudged through the rods of gold. His head came up higher than the corn, just like a scarecrow free to walk the field, parting the dry green stalks. He was humming, some old battle song, that Pa had taught him as a child. Juvenile things really. The sun in the sky was a bog-standard being, the fiery embrace of the rays beating down upon him until his muscles seemed to throb gratefully in response. His whole skin was tingling with awareness and the fine hairs on his arms were standing up. Between the gusts of warm wind, every sound seemed acutely magnified; the crunching of his feet on the soil-strewn path deafening.

It was the moments like this that he relished, the kind of moments that were as simple as Smallville.

It wasn't a secret that Clark Kent was a conformist and that he lived for the natural order of things. Pa Kent had died a good seven years earlier in some unthinkable freak accident that he hadn't wanted him to stop, and Lana Lang had long since departed from their dear little hometown; taking what was left of Clark's heart with her. It had taken a while but slowly but surely he'd managed to piece himself back together, at least somewhat.

Not that he'd had a choice.

These days he was simply just surviving; he'd take the jobs that he could to pay the farm's bills and lay low in an attempt to appear ordinary. He hadn't had any problems with this simple life so far and if he looked far enough into the future he could actually see himself leading a pretty normal life. After all that's what he'd always wanted.

To be one of them.

Clark took a deep breath and his teeth worried at his bottom lip. Apparently he was in the mood to be reflective today. From his place in the wheat fields he could hear the sharp flick of Ma's book as she entered the next page, and his face broke up in a slight grin.

 _To Kill A Mockingbird,_ was the book that Ma had chosen; and it was a book that Ma had read at least a thousand times. To Kill A Mockingbird was the book that had been collecting dust atop of their fireplace for a good five years now and he wondered what had garnered her to change her mind and pick up the read. Perhaps Ma was in the reflective mood as well, not that it was hard to be in their little town.

Clark brows knitted for a second, deep in thought as he stepped into the clearing.

Martha Kent looked up just as her son stepped out from the cornfields, her throat swelling with a mother's pride and bright warmth gathering in her eyes. Her boy, her beautiful boy. He was remarkably handsome, his face a bronze copper in the natural light, features cleanly defined and nearly perfect under a shock of wild dark hair. Those cheekbones were a sculptures dream and his eyes were a precious aquamarine, much like the rare gemstone.

She rose from her perch, snapping her book shut and placing it on the now empty rocking chair. Her own lips pulling up into a smile. "Well look at you."

Clark beamed in acknowledgement. "Enjoying yourself ma?"

"Thought I'd catch some sun. It's a beautiful day." said Ma, her wrinkly hands settling themselves on her narrow hips.

"That sounds fair." The duffel hit the ground with a small thud and Clark's arms spread for an embrace. "Hi, Ma."

"Hi dear," Ma replied, walking into his open arms. "How're the crops coming?"

"Oh, their coming. They should be ready to eat any day now." Clark said, pulling back to glance down at her. Ma gave him a winning smile before maneuvering him to take a seat on the porch.

"To Kill A Mockingbird, again?"

Ma went silent for a while, basking in the state that was Kansas in the peak of summer. For a moment Clark wasn't sure if she would answer but a second later she did. "It was your Pa's favourite book."

Clark gave a slight grimace, not able to deny the slight hitch that clenched his heart. It still hurt, even after all this time. Clark made himself smile, although his stomach felt like ice. "I know." he mumbled, softly.

"Don't look so sad, dear." said Ma reassuringly. "Your Pa's still with us..." her hand moved to rest on his chest, right on the place his heart would be, but her touch didn't register with him. Another wretched curse of his. "In here."

Clark nodded numbly.

Sure, he knew that, but it didn't make the pill any less bitter to swallow.

"You were the apple of that man's eye, Clark. When we found you it was the best day of his life, both of ours."

He stretched out his long legs and looked away, looking around the barn. His eyes searching the corn for something that wasn't there. Something beyond Smallville and the safety of their little town... something more.

Ma's voice rang out to him but it served as nothing more than a beckon in the distance and she continued on, even as she watched the wind jostle the corns. "I used to sit by your crib and listen to you breathe. You would struggle for breath... I was terrified to take my eyes of you. It was your dad who eventually convinced me to let you be."

Clark's fingers twined together, clenching hard, but he spoke in a low voice so as not to break the atmosphere. "I guess I had to learn to adjust sometime."

Ma's response was a short lived chuckle, one that sounded sad and empty. Even still, he knew it haunted her. That she still saw that final image of Pa holding up a hand to stop his pursuits. It was the same image that haunted him most nights.

He waited five heartbeats in the silence that followed, then wet his lips. "Ma... " He began hoarsely, feeling a sudden yawning pit in his stomach. "... Do you ever wish that things were different?"

"No." she said, without hesitation. "Because if they were, I wouldn't have you."

He should've been chuffed, but instead he felt nothing. A son's affection for his mother, yes, but there was also a loneliness there. And the worst part about all of it was that Ma would never understand. Clark chanced a look at her and found that something in Ma's eyes was changing, was narrowing itself down to a wistful kind of twinkle. He decided right then that he didn't like that look. As if reading his mind, Ma confirmed his thoughts. "I won't always be around you know Clark."

"Ma, stop." He shook his head. "Don't talk like that."

"Oh, my boy. We need to talk about these things."

Clark almost looked disgusted. "Why?"

Ma gave him a firm look, the type that told him she knew him much to well. "Because it's only natural, death is a natural part of life, dear. Who knows what tomorrow will bring."

Deep down he knew she was right.

And hell, Clark would've been able to relate if he was one of them. But for him he didn't have to worry about dying from cancer, or some other freaky disease that would snuff the life out of a human. Bullet's bounced from his skin, metal bent under his grip. The sun on this Earth made him unique from others, it made him alien.

Clark felt a cold wave of hopelessness wash over him.

He opened his mouth for some witty retort, and then stopped abruptly; his dark deep set brows furrowing in concentration.

From his place on the porch he could hear them setting up the tables at Fell's Cabin, he had somewhere to be and not a lot of time to get there. That would've been a problem; if he was any normal person. He brushed his jeans off, jumping to his feet at a pace that had Ma doubling back ever so slightly.

"I'll see you later ma." He said, swiftly. "I'm due into work in twenty minutes."

For a moment, for one suspended second Ma's eyes were bewildered and uncertain as she searched his face for an answer. Then as if suddenly understanding she grappled for words. "Okay, dear." She managed, the only words that seemed to tumble forth. She pursed her lips, "Be safe."

Clark rolled his eyes, even still, after all these years she would never seize to worry about him, It was a maternal instinct. "Ma." he snorted, a small smile quirking at the corners of his lips, but Ma's face showed nothing but a Mother's concern for her child.

Thin arms folded themselves across a flimsy chest, a silver brow quirking up in mere stubbornness. "Don't give me that look Clark Kent." she scolded, halfheartedly. "It is a mother's job to worry. Even if her son does have special gifts to protect himself with."

Clark couldn't stop the smile then even if he wanted to. "Whatever you say Ma." he said, getting to his feet before taking a step away from her. He dropped into a crouch, poised to twist up into the skies and Ma said nothing more, but her face did. A smile that shone with the same pride that had been there from the moment they'd found him in the fields all those years ago.

She let loose a wistful sigh, watching as he shot up into the sky.

* * *

Clark arrived at work three minutes later, clocking in a little earlier than usual. On the flight here his knife-keen ears hadn't picked up on anything out of the ordinary, or anything that had needed his urgent attention for that matter. He almost found that he could relax a little into his day.

For today was a day like any other on a good day, except that Clark wanted to be anywhere but here. Out of all the jobs that he'd worked throughout the years Fell's Cabin had to be his least favourite by a mile. His team leader, Lance Prescott had given him hell as he'd come through the two looming doors, he'd wittered on about slacking and all sorts of unimportant non-sense. Not that Clark had been listening, he'd been to busy fitting his apron around his waist.

It had been four hours since then and now he found himself with his head down, slouching a little as he shuffled from table to table to retrieve drained tappers, and untouched meals. This job was so not worth the pay, and if he was a less patient man Clark would've quit a long time ago.

Unfortunately, this was not the case.

He whipped out a dull looking napkin, wiping the rims of the fresh glasses he'd just collected from the front desk before setting them back down. His eyes met Lila Montgomery's from across the room, a long standing colleague of his, he tried for a smile. Lila had been here for as long as him, perhaps even longer and even still she wore those two pleated pigtails that trailed a wall of ink down to her shoulders. Lila had dark hair like him and she flirted a lot, especially when it came to him. Clark had never indulged her, but if he wanted her he could have her.

Lila arched an eyebrow at him, a suggestive sway to her hips as she moved to a table full of drunken punters. All that looked finished for the day if they had any common sense at all, but of course they didn't, these men right here were the kind of men that exceeded their limits and Clark could smell the trouble on them from a mile off.

Clark picked up another arm full of empty pints before moving back to the front with a heavy sigh.

This was the usual for him, no matter how much it sucked. He would welcome this kind of normalcy with open arms, take a minute to embrace the fact that this was what being the standard mortal felt like. Clark cleared his throat and the glasses went down with a _clink_ just as Wade Fairmont sidled up beside him.

"What'sup Joe?" Wade drawled, in that god awful tone he'd normally use to provoke him. To the staff and the customers here at Fell's Cabin this was Clark's name, the identity that he had adopted to grant himself immunity from any suspicion.

"The sky... apparently." he commented dryly.

"Wise guy, huh?" Wade laughed, those green eyes gleaming. "Who pee'd in your cheerios?"

Clark sighed tersely. "Wade."

"Fine, fine." Wade huffed, a set of hairy hands shooting up in surrender. He was smart enough to know when he wasn't in the mood. "Jesus, if I ever thought that you were broody before I was so wrong."

Clark folded his arms, his chest puffing out on an exasperated breath. He fell against the counter top, and briefly wondered when Wade would decide to shut up. But of course it never happened. A talkative Wade was the worst kind of Wade and when that Wade started, he never stopped. Super hearing no matter what the situation happened to be a bitch to turn off.

"She's looking at you again." Wade said, nudging him in the ribs.

"Who?" he asked wearily, but he already knew exactly who Wade was talking about. Ever since he'd come in here this morning Lila Montgomery had been watching him like a hawk, that knowing pink grin laid on thick and her walnut eyes following his every move.

"Lila." Wade expressed, like it wasn't already the most of obvious thing in the world.

Clark grimaced and pressed his lips together, almost unconsciously his eyes sought out Lila's for the second time and sure enough she was stealing glances at him. He felt his cheeks redden significantly. Unlike him, Wade would have absolutely no qualms about picking up that slack.

"She's got the hots for you. You know that right?"

"Lila's a nice girl." Clark answered, shifting ever so slightly.

Wade's eyes went huge. "Nice, that's it nice... a fucking stone cold fox is what she is. And nice is all you got?" he sighed, shaking his head. "If Lila Montgomery was looking at me the way she's looking at you right now I wouldn't hesitate to take her out back."

"Wade!" Clark chided fiercely, but apart of him was fighting back a laugh.

Wade waved him off. "I swear Joe, sometimes I think you're the most patient man on the planet. You're like... a Monk."

Clark laughed faintly.

 _You have no idea_

He thought to himself. He managed a shrug, cold as an iceberg. "I try."

Wade snorted. "Yeah, yeah. I've heard that one before. You don't fool me _Joe Tanner_."

Clark offered up a half-hearted chuckle in response, then took in his surroundings. A picture blossomed in his mind. _Fell's Cabin_ , it was an intimate little space if you fancied that kind of thing. Packed full of cherry wood furniture and spindly little lights that often flickered when the bar would close up for a lock in. It wasn't much at all, just a one horse drop in for travellers that would stay for a beer or a bite to eat before setting off on their merry way. Poof, never to be seen again unless they had relatives in the town.

 _"Oh, Fantastic."_

Came Wade's voice shattering Clark's brief bubble of clarity, his mind wrenched him back into reality again and he cast a hunted look around. "What?"

Wade sighed, the kind of sigh that signalled that he'd truly had enough. "Three o'clock." he grumbled with false humour. He licked his lips before straightening, a forlorn sigh escaping him as his lips quirked bitterly. "And puny Prescott doesn't look too happy either."

Clark sobered and he glanced up just in time to see Mr Prescott storming up to them, his face like thunder. Prescott was visibly impatient and didn't look to be in the you-talk-I'll-listen mood either.

 _God,_ he really didn't need this today.

Mr Prescott barked, stopping before them at last. "You don't get paid to just stand there, you get paid to work!"

Wade cast Clark a mock-bewildered look before looking back to Prescott. "Me?"

"Yes... _you two_... you incompetent... " Prescott broke off abruptly, clearly over this repeat situation, he rolled his shoulders taking an inch towards the pair.

"Incompetent, what?" Wade grinned at Mr Prescott, setting the bait. "Help me to help you, remember boss?"

It was rhetorical; and Clark wasn't at all surprised at Wade's blatant show of disrespect. Wade Fairmont was a young man who'd seen to much, his eyes spoke of true terror and secrets untold. That fiery red hair screamed danger, those bewitching green eyes inviting someone to challenge him, anyone who thought they had it in them, smug in their own right.

Prescott stammered, and Clark found himself shifting irately, not in the least impressed. "Do you know how this will look for us?" The burly man shook his head, then went on to describe pointless, nonsensical things until he was huffing for breath.

He and Wade watched him, listening to the story with an air of detached indifference. Then Wade's lips smacked together stubbornly and for a second he looked as though he was truly contemplating something serious. "Are you finished?"

Prescott paled and he stuttered for words.

Clark found himself almost rolling his eyes. This of course was the usual for this place, this dysfunctional family drama and bickering between Wade and step-daddy Prescott. It was like watching an omnibus of the O.C, jam packed with begrudging angst and all the other shitty things that made for a defective family. A couple years back Mr Prescott had wed Wade's mother and now the two hated each other.

Wade had only kept his job to make his mother happy. " _Feigned c_ _o-operation,"_ he liked to call it: a case of you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.

Prescott gave up, his face an amusing shade of red as he turned his wrath on Clark. "Tanner..." he hissed, giving him a harsh pat on the chest. Clark raised a thick dark brow before glancing down at the smaller man's hand. Alas, there it was, the quality that Clark despised the most about this man. From beside him he could hear Wade's sharp intake of breath, no doubt he was about to bust a gut in laughter.

Clark grit his teeth.

Prescott's eyes seemed to have grown even darker if that was even possible. "And what do you have to say for yourself?"

Clark straightened his spine, he shook his head urbanely and found himself unable to speak through a storm of internal fury. Prescott's voice seemed to become something of a muted soundtrack, and Clark tried desperately to seek a peace that he'd never truly known. He held himself carefully still, waiting for the self-depicted monsoon to pass when a dulcet voice broke the silence, broke the spell.

 _"Seriously, Kurt. Knock it off."_

Clark startled and found himself able to function again. His eyes sought out the source of the disturbance and peered over the wiry silver head of Lance Prescott, his eyes like chips of blue ice.

Ice so cold it burned.

Alas, and there in lay the culprit. _Kurt Monroe_ , with his beefy arms and that oh so smug grin that Clark just wanted to punch away. With his annoyingly cropped hair and his outrageous self-entitlement. He was a brute hidden behind a greying, hairy face. Men like Kurt really found a way to creep their way under his skin, they had no respect for women, no respect for anyone. They swanned around thinking that they could take what they wanted, when they wanted, like the world owed them one big debt or something.

In other words Kurt Monroe was a total tool, a world class ass whole.

Clark frowned watching as Kurt laid a firm smack to Lila's bottom and the muscles around his jaw shone out, as did the surge of decency that propelled his feet to move before he could even stop himself. He ignored the protests of Lance Prescott, keeping his face grim as he neared the table. "Is there a problem here?"

Eight sets of eyes turned to look at him and Clark squared his shoulders.

Kurt smiled and the air went cold. Contemptuously he said, "Well look who it is... Moose. Come to save your damsel, huh?"

Clark lowered his chin and stared at Kurt sharply, his blue eyes piercing under the shock of black hair. There was a perceptible pause before he got the words out. His face was tense with control. "Let her go."

The three men with Kurt broke up into a swoon of chuckles, and Kurt rose from his seat testing the air, his laughter was harsh. "Walk away... moose... before I break your jaw."

Clark stood his ground, and he heard Lila swallow hard beside him. The whole bar had gone quiet. Suddenly intrigued by the show that seemed to be unfolding right before their very eyes. Silence fell, heavy as an ax.

The minutes ticked by.

Savagely, Kurt's face went dark and his nostrils seemed to flare. "You were warned." He growled then barrelled up, shoving at his chest with what would've been impressive strength if Clark had been anyone other than himself. But still he stood firm, grounded, like some immovable brick wall. Still held in that queer, artificial calm.

Kurt's lips curled into a vicious smirk; as if he'd suddenly had the best idea in the whole wide world and then his beer went splashing up into Clark's face drenching him from the head down.

Clark heard the rumble of laughter booming up in Kurt's chest before it ripped it's way from his throat, and the sound was something pale and ugly against the quiet solitude of the bar. It settled something wrong within him.

Kurt stumbled on his feet, that stupid smirk still plastered on thick. He squinted leaning in to peer at the name tag on Clark's shirt through a set of glazed eyes. "How's that... Joe?" he hiccuped.

Clark's jaw clenched, and his fists tightened into two balls of hot led. For a moment, the desire to hit Kurt back was almost irresistible.

Lila sensing his inner battle rested a hand atop of his bicep. "Come on, sweetie." She was tugging on his arm. "He's not worth it."

Clark was silent for some time, his blue eyes blazing with anger and menace, but there was a dignity, almost a purity about him. He was like some stern angel carved in unyielding marble. Then, with the blood pounding in his ears, he found his tongue. "Your right his not." he finally said through his teeth.

Kurt snorted, shaking his head. He muttered foully under his breath. "All bark and no bite."

If Clark was a mortal he would've launched himself at Kurt a long time ago, but with his physiology it was impossible. He would risk breaking his bones, or worse... Killing him. Although the idea did seem appealing at the moment. Clark's jaw was set, If he could, just once, wipe that flashing, there-and-gone smile off Kurt's face, he would die happy, he thought.

With a careful sigh, he brought his apron up to his face, swiping at the dripping remnants of stout. Kurt Monroe was a lucky man indeed, and if Clark wasn't the patient man that he was the bastard would be counting his lucky stars right about now.

He turned to Lila and she looked gratified. That sultry air from before long gone, she let out a swell of breath. "Thanks Joe."

Clark's eyes shined with sincerity, and he opened his mouth to respond. "You're wel -"

The words were barely out when his ear picked up on something. Something in the distance... his head turned to look toward the windows, brows creasing with each moment that passed by.

Outside, a noise had begun.

It was inaudible to human ears, and Clark almost ignored it until the sounds penetrated his consciousness.

It was strange, but he had no time to puzzle over it. The sound was growing louder, a strange and oddly sickening sound roaring to life over head, the tinkle of glass shards falling.

Gasps ricocheted around the bar and he understood then that the customers were starting to hear it too.

His eyes flew bewilderingly to the glasses resting atop the oak tables, and to Clark's absolute horror he found that they were shaking. _It's an e_ _arthquake,_ Clark thought with nightmare calmness and that was when it happened.

A devastating noise that was wild and sounded truly animal, a sound ripped forth from deep within the Earth's core. It was a huge sound, like the sky was shattering in on itself and it took his breath away. Customers were rising from their seats, curiosity forcing them to investigate, that human instinct that craved danger.

Clark too found himself stepping outside amidst the squall of murmuring people, just in time to see a blazing shock of lightning flash viciously across the skies, dancing in a spectacular gleam of white and fiery gold.

The sight was magnificent, and oddly enchanting.

But this storm, this force of nature had to be the most vicious thing to have ever hit Smallville, and with growing foreboding Clark realized it was because this was no ordinary storm. The sky was clouding up, much like the fog blackening his mind and his mouth twisted. His nostrils flaring as if he were smelling something awful. Something terrible was stirring at the bottom of Clark's mind, some memory too disturbing to be let loose. It was happening again. It was just like the tornado!

Only it was worse, God, it was so much worse!

People were gasping in astonishment around him, some even crying out in disbelief. It was all hitting him at once, and had it not been for Ma and Pa teaching him how to hone his senses as a child he would've doubled over on the ground in agony, screaming until the pain stopped.

Clark's knuckles tightened to burning fists.

He chanced a glance at Lila who stood routed beside him. Terror holding her hostage as a shadow of fear presented itself over the pale face, eyes the color of honeyed amber transformed themselves into sunken sockets of disbelief. Her lips parted on a trembling breath. "What is that?"

Clark could do nothing but shake his head mutely, ripping his gaze from Lila. His own eyes homed in on the direction that the disturbance was heading. His teeth crushing together until they found dust.

 _The Farm,_ he realized and he was suddenly furious. A wild feeling was growing inside of him, and he felt a storming chill of concern like never before. No! he would be damned if he let this happen again. His body had wound itself into a taut knot of fury and without another thought Clark backed away into the crunch of bodies, spinning away from the scene.

He hurried away to an abandoned spot a good seven meters away from Fells Cabin and in the next second he was airborne. He didn't think he had ever moved so fast in his entire life; unless of course he was counting saving Lana from numerous incidents. He darted through the skies, a bleeding bullet that split the sky in two. He thundered forth like a missile, already seeing the farm arising in the distance.

As Clark neared the farm, A wave of panic began to hit him, damn near knocking the breath out of him. He made it to the farm in records time, and he broke the earth in a sprint, landing just in time to see Ma stepping out of the house. "Clark!" she was calling out to him. "My God, what's happening?"

Clark tottered toward her, his actions frantic and almost hysterical. His voice was barely his own. "It's coming from the fields." he shouted through the howling wind and his head whipped back to glance at the activity he could see transpiring in throughout corn. He pushed Ma towards the house. "Ma get back inside. I'm going to check it out!"

Ma looked ready to protest, but Clark was already hustling her into the house, thrusting the heavy bench resting on their porch before the door. He could see Ma staring at him through the window net her dark eyes wide and tearful.

It was a terrible sight.

But he couldn't wallow on it.

He fled down the porch steps, then let himself succumb to the whims of gravity, soaring up into the skies in a virtuoso display of reflex. A sonic boom roared through the air as he split through the seams of gravity, throwing himself at the raging storm twisting violently in the middle of the cornfields.

"Arghhhh!" Clark roared. A primal sound that tore it's way right from his very being. He shot toward the sparkling energy and it suddenly started to dawn on him that this hadn't just been some devastating lightning storm.

It was some sort of electromagnetic field.

Some delegated force that seemed to be feeding on itself and growing bigger. Clark flew in, hitting the force field with lightening speed and the impact was thunderous. He found himself being hurled away, spinning wildly until he managed to steady himself. He let out a grunt, shaking the cobwebs out of his head. His teeth grinding together so hard his jaw hurt.

 _Damn that's gonna hurt in the morning._

He thought before throwing himself into action once more. He soared around the shield, measuring his action of attack with exact precision. He could hit it again. But it really didn't seem like the smart thing to do. Moments ago this shield had nearly knocked the wind out of him and he really didn't want that to happen again.

His sharp eyes honed in.

There was something opening itself in the heart of the field, something that seemed to be collapsing into itself. The shield was glowing, the skies too, and in those few horrible seconds all he could do was look. It felt as if someone had just lightly touched the hairs on the back of his neck with an ice cube... This current was something of a far more ruthless proportion. The entity had fallen to earth like some sort of fallen star and seemed as though it was about to go nuclear. Clark had never seen an object with so much energy before.

And it was cold, this energy, like the breath out of a meat locker. He felt as if it would suck out his own life-force and turn it into ice, if it got the chance.

The thing was about to blow.

Clark's eyes grew huge and he started to gravitate a safe distance away from the force field, half of him intent on spinning around and flying back to the farm. The other half bracing himself for impact, for the explosion he knew was about to come, but instead it did the complete opposite. The shield started to dim, and he could only stare on in mind-numbing amazement as it grew smaller. Involuntarily, Clark's mind went to those phony television shows that he used to watch with Pa as a kid, where it would build up to something big, only to leave the audience completely underwhelmed.

He watched as the shield dimmed in size until it was nothing more than a flaring light, a burning star smoking in the middle of the fields.

For a second Clark felt weak with relief.

He lowered, letting his feet touch the soil with a gentle thud, strong hands parting the corns as he made his way forward to investigate what had just happened.

The silence had become deadly, menacing.

It hummed in his ears with the beat of his own blood. And he couldn't help imagining what might come screaming out of it at any minute. His ears pricked, zeroing in on anything that could serve to be a potential threat and he begun to close in, lips tight.

A few moments passed and then the snap of a twig exploded through him like gunfire. It made Clark move all the more faster, he hacked down the corns as he went, a frown between his brows as he got closer to the scene. A heaving sound seemed to be cutting through the air and the closer he got the more clearly he saw the broken roots of compressed dirt and corn stalks, it looked almost as though a giant foot had come down hard and stomped down right in the heart of the fields.

Marking it's territory.

His hand moved the last strand of corn out of his way before taking a step into the crop circle and what he saw next had his breath soaring from his lungs. It hadn't been a lighting storm, or some monstrous titan falling down to Earth to destroy their town for that matter. Clark took a careful step closer, he couldn't believe his eyes.

It was a person.

A body soiled in dirt and Earth... _God,_ it was a woman! The woman lay flat for a moment, sucking in great wheezing gasps of air. She seemed to writhe in the dirt, her face tight with pain. As he got closer he took in the details. A shining veil of dark hair layered her face in a wild shock of disarray, covering the majority of her half-burnt off armor. And from behind the bloody welts on her face; he could make out a sensual mouth, the classic arch of two dark eyebrows, much like his own.

Clark's heart stopped, and he could do nothing but watch on in complete astonishment as twin blue eyes snapped open to meet his own.

The woman seemed to watch him for a second, the same way he was watching her and Clark imagined that his face held the same sort of wonder. Her eyes were strange and cold. Wild with true fear.

And he blanched, watching as her lips parted as if to speak, but before she say could say a word her eyes rolled up into her head and she slumped back down to the earth with a grunt of complete exhaustion.


	2. Chapter 2

**THE KEEPER : CHAPTER TWO**  
Title: The Keeper  
Author(s): childrenofmen  
Pairing/Characters: Clark Kent (SM) and Diana Prince (WW)  
Rating: T  
Warnings: Intimate situations will occurs.  
Summary: Clark Kent is more than comfortable with his simple life. Living under the raider, blending in with mankind. But when a mysterious woman wounds up injured on the Kent farm, Clark makes it his mission to nurse her back to health. However as he starts to get to know her he comes to the realization that they might share a lot more in common than he initially thought...

* * *

Martha Kent had seen a lot of strange things in her sixty odd years on this Earth. She had witnessed tornado's, comets and... hell, even a spaceship fall down to Earth right in the middle of her cornfields.

It was terrifying really.

That ship had held the single most purest joys of her life, her boy, _Clark_. A child that had answered a young and hopeful couples prayers. But today had to be the most peculiar by a mile. Their perfect small Southern town of deep-porched houses, surrounded by carefully tended cornfields and big old trees had been quaked to it's core. It had seemed as though God had taken his large hands and ripped the sky right open.

Martha's mind had almost had trouble accepting it.

But when Clark had arrived moments later, carrying what looked to be a young woman at deaths door in those strong arms of his, Martha had known that her life couldn't possibly get any stranger than it already was.

Of course, She had made sure to shoo Clark out of the room before making quick work of ridding the girl of her soiled _armour?_ and from there it had been a race against time to staunch her wounds and save her life. It had been a long and disturbing process and as she worked Martha had found herself almost moved to tears, call it the mother in her, but it had been what she'd needed to do her best for the young woman.

She could only hope that her efforts were enough.

Martha sighed before dampening the bloodied cloth once more, she gave it a firm squeeze then dabbed carefully at the vicious looking welt puckering the side of the young woman's mouth.

 _Poor love,_ Martha was no doctor but one glance at this woman and she knew that she had most certainly been through it. It was lucky that her Clark had found her when he did, otherwise Martha was sure the woman would have been long since dead. She was aware of Clark observing from the doorway and part of her wished that he would busy himself so that she could focus primarily on the task at hand.

She heard Clark sigh for what had to be the hundredth time that hour.

He shifted uncomfortably, watching as Ma tended to the fragile thing that lay beneath the sheets. On the bed Clark could make out a lump of blankets with unkempt black hair sticking out the top. Today had most definitely taken the strangest turn of events, and he found himself wracking his brain on how things could've possibly escalated so quickly. In all honesty it was a loaded question. _Only in Smallville._

Clark tilted his head as he observed from afar.

"Poor girl." Ma murmured almost absently, and it snapped him to attention almost instantly. Clark glanced at her sharply, his blue eyes piercing under the shock of black hair. "Has she come to at all?" he asked softly, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. It was a nervous habit, one he'd been doing since he was a child.

Martha gave him a stern look. "No Clark." she chastised. "Now pack it in. You've been asking me this ever since I let you back into the room."

Clark frowned, ignoring that last statement. "What do you think happened to her, ma?"

"I don't know, Dear. But whatever happened can't have been good." Ma sighed. She looked tired and worn, but her smile was as gentle as always. "She's lucky you found her when you did. Otherwise..." she trailed off, letting the words hang in the air. Better that than to fuel her son's infamous concern when it came to injured things. She chanced a quick glance at Clark to see that troubled pinch to his brows that she knew all to well. It was funny really, even though he wasn't theirs biologically, when he looked like that it reminded her so much of her late husband that it was almost uncanny.

Clark bent his head, silently eyeing the lump of sheets. He frowned, those great blue eyes of his haunted as he stared into the room. Martha could tell that his thoughts had wandered elsewhere. "When I found her..." Clark began. "She seemed... _scared_. It's hard to imagine that someone who looked that terrified could be a threat."

Martha licked her lips, confused. "But that storm?"

"It wasn't a storm."

"Then wh- "

"It was some sort of electromagnetic field." Clark explained, answering Ma's question before she could fully ask. "I'm... not really sure myself." Clark had been staring fixedly at the comatose girl, his eyebrows drawn together. Now he nodded fractionally, but with a sudden sense of urgency. He seemed to be running over the idea in his mind, and with Martha's elderly brain it became hard to keep up.

"What do you mean, Clark?"

Clark pursed his lips, choosing his next words with care. "No _ordinary_ person could have created something like that."

Martha found her eyes widening. "You don't think?"

"I'm not sure what I think. But it's possible." He walked farther into the room. The air in the space was thick and the quiet buzzed in their ears like a high pitched wail. Clark tried not to be electrified at the idea. But the very knowledge was much to tempting to ignore. Could it be?

Was it possible that there was someone else in the world like him? That he wasn't the last of his kind like he had been led to believe for so long. Clark shuddered, shaking himself. He was getting ahead of himself: his mind leading him to believe the impossible it seemed. But if that was it, then why did he have the feeling that this wasn't some mysterious work of chance. That this wasn't some sort of misplaced judgement or coincidence.

Ma was looking at him again, with concern written all over her face.

"Wouldn't her injuries have been healed by now if she was?" she asked, because she wanted to know what was troubling her son. It was strange. That storm, _that field,_ had done something to her boy. Clark seemed to be oddly shaken, something Martha wouldn't normally associated with him. She didn't like it. The thought worried her, it worried her a lot.

Clark crossed his arms over his broad chest. "I don't know, Ma." he said exasperatedly, his tone a lot more hasty than he would of liked. He took a breath, trying to bury his thoughts in a haze of incidental nonsense. Those thick black brows of his suddenly drew together again and his next words were mumbled almost to himself. "But I know _someone_ who can help me find out for sure."

Martha tried not to look to hopeful, she may have been getting old but her hearing was still very much in tact. "You do?"

Clark sighed, he didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Yes."

"Who?"

Clark suddenly looked unsure of himself and that look, God, that keen glance that he knew oh so well bore into his very soul the way only a mother could gaze at her child. He felt his mouth dry. "That's not important right now." he whispered, without heat. Physical and emotional exhaustion crowding in at the mere thought of visiting that Fortress up in the arctic again. "I'm hoping when she comes to she'll be able to tell us herself."

Martha took a deep breath, dropping the cloth back into the bowl. She gathered the bloodied wash rags and equipment into her frail arms and gave Clark her full attention at last. "Well we might be waiting a while then." she breathed, and for some odd reason Clark felt his insides twist. Martha studied her son's concerned look and a small knowing smile stretched her lips. "But don't give yourself grey hairs, dear. She's not out of the woods yet but she's stable."

Against his better judgement Clark found himself barking out a laugh at Ma's ill timed humour. "You really do have a way with words don't you Ma?"

Ma's smile deepened, an unexpected dimple flickering in one cheek. "That I do." she said. "Look here son, I'm not sure what this woman is or where she came from... but I know a fighter when I see one and something tells me that she's a strong one." Her voice was soft but intense, and in that perpetual moment it seemed to Clark that those words described the strange young woman better than anything he'd ever heard. Ma began to move from the room but not before stopping to give his arm a reassuring touch. "Just like you."

Clark offered her the faintest of smiles and gave a small yelp when she gave him a sharp tap to the cheek. It didn't hurt but as a son it was his duty to make his mother think that she had the upper hand at all times; even if he was an alien from another planet.

As foolish as it sounded.

"Now, now." Ma upbraided warmly. "Don't be a baby. We both know that it didn't hurt." she moved to the doorway and spoke over her shoulder this time. "I'm going to go and start supper."

Clark's stomach rumbled slightly at the thought. "Okay Ma." He murmured and waited to hear her leave the room. It never came. He didn't turn around to meet her eye again or shoot her that reassuring smile that he'd so often cast her, this was something that Ma usually did when it came to him and it often meant that she was worried. Clark didn't miss the stuttering thump-thump of her heart; confirming what he'd suspected.

She watched him quietly for a long moment before he heard her shuffle from the room and Clark let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. At last he felt the world start to settle into place around him.

He stood by himself for a moment - save the body under the sheets - unsure of what to do next.

At last he pulled up the little stall that Ma had been occupying moments before and took a seat with a heavy breath. In the silence Clark found his thoughts beginning to wander and then he thought of Lila Montgomery. _I should probably go back to work._ Yeah, that didn't sound like such a bad idea. Go back and check on Lila and the others. After all he had kind of pulled his disappearing act on them again and Lila was probably pulling her hair out thinking him dead or something completely insane like that.

It was the story of his life really.

Clark found his eyes beginning to roam over the unconscious woman. When he'd been in the cornfields he hadn't really gotten the chance to look at her; but now, here in his bedroom, with her wounds relatively cleaned he could just about make out the face behind the vicious welts. There in lay the sharp tanned jawline with the high cheekbones that did wonders for any mortal face and her lips were plump and sensual. Something that tugged at something within him, even though Clark would never admit it to himself. She was dead to the world with the bed covers drawn up to her chin, her mouth open, her dark hair spread out like a fan on the pillow.

Unbeknownst to him, apart of Clark decided right then that he would make it his mission to make her better.

He regarded the stranger silently, wondering what her story was - anything was possible after all - take him for example, an alien from another planet. Living amongst the citizens of this Earth. Could it really be that impossible? Could she be another one of _him_?

His hand rose and then froze a hairs breadth away from her cheek.

As stupid as it sounded Clark half expected her to start awake and jump him or something. Stupid really. Despite himself, he almost felt his lips turn up slightly before he dropped his hand back down to his lap. Maybe it was semantics, or... _or_... No, not even he had an explanation for this. He put a knuckle to his lips, trying to arrange the jumbled mess that was his mind.

He took several seconds and then squinted his eyes, now that he was looking at her properly he discovered that the woman was wearing a pair of heavy looking metallic bracers. The gauntlets looked ancient; like something straight out of a tragic tale of myth.

If the circumstances were different Clark would've scoffed at such a thought.

He let his hand trace over one of the silver bands, he frowned, _gauntlets_ he realized. Clark was no fool and believe it or not he had actually listened in History class in sophomore year. He was ruling nothing out. He found himself straightening, Clark hadn't realized it until that moment, but the tension he felt, the sense of urgency, was not just from inside him. It was outside, all around.

It thickened the air.

Something in Clark's gut fluttered at the thought. He shook his head, muttering quietly into the silence of the room. "Who are you?"

The question hung in the space around him just as heavy as the silver bands bonded to the woman's wrists. It pushed Clark to decide what he wanted to do next, even if his next move proved to be a fools error.

* * *

It was a bright humid day in the witching hour and the non-existent clocks were striking thirteen. A woman donning heavy battle armour and pauldrons raced down the royal corridors with bleated breaths. _I must tell the Queen._ Rational thinking appeared to be fleeing from her and the Amazon found hysteria welling up in her throat _._

Gaea! there was no time, she had to warn the queen.

The warrior quickened her steps before making a keen right towards the throne rooms and then she was bursting through the two looming doors that led to her monarch's sanctuary.

"Ariadne." cried Hippolyta, rising from her throne. The look on the girls face had her starting towards her and Hippolyta gathered up her royal garbs before rushing down the steps of her throne until she came to a halt before the much smaller Amazon.

The woman was gasping. "My Queen... We are under attack..." Ariadne broke off. She was frantic as she tried to steady her breathing and it was in those tense few seconds that Hippolyta let her eyes take in the details of what one of her most trusted allies had been through this night. Great purple patches marked her skin and with them deep nasty gashes that told of the story of battle.

Hippolyta tightened her lips. "By whom?" Their island had been at peace for the better part of two millenniums now and the thought that someone could possibly be raging war on them after so many years of solitude proved to be something of a great concern to the Queen. "Fetch Antiope, tell her to prepare the horses."

In the moments that followed it seemed as though the light that had initially been in sparkling in Ariadne's fierce eyes disappeared, and for a second she looked as though she would break out screaming in panic. "Antiope is dead." she whispered and her voice was small.

Hippolyta blanched, shaking her head. The Queen seemed to stagger on her feet and had it not been for her pride she too would've become the blubbering mess that was her dear sweet subject.

Hippolyta reached out, grasped Ariadne by the top of her arms and gave her a firm shake. Throughout Ariadne's broken dispute Hippolyta's brain had selected one key bit of information and it was by the far most terrifying indeed. "Ariadne..." She rasped through the fullness in her throat. "What of my daughter? What of _Diana_?"

Ariadne paled and opened her mouth. Not a sound came out so she closed it and tried again. "The princess..."

Hippolyta's face was pinched with anger, but there were tears in her eyes. "What?" she barked, and her voice pitched strangely to a tone that not even Ariadne herself had ever heard before. "Gods above Ariadne, speak to me!"

Ariadne sunk her teeth into her lip in an attempt to stop it from trembling. "It took her."

If Ariadne had ever thought she'd seen her Queen scared before she had been wrong. She was one of the very few who her grace would let be her confident and to bear witness to the way her eyes sunk and her skin paled was frightening.

Hippolyta was in turmoil.

The crushing weight of Ariadne's words seemed to squeeze her lungs to the point that she could scarcely breathe and horror swept through her like a tidal wave; squelching any incline of hope within sight. She shook her head once, lips trembling. "...What took her?"

Ariadne could see the wheels turning in her majesty's mind. "A monster." She explained. "A red eyed beast that looked like a man." She tried not to shudder as she remembered the vision. It was the very image that had made Ariadne's stomach coil into knots. She'd bitten back a gasp when she'd first laid eyes on the sight, her own eyes wild as she'd realized that... That face, those roaring red eyes had been the face of a true monster. Even if she could've shut her eyes, every detail of the scene had etched itself upon her memory.

As if the flash of fire in the beasts eyes had seared it onto her brain forever.

Hippolyta's lungs tightened as if Ariadne had socked her square in the chest. Her voice trembled on the knife's edge of hysteria. "A man." She spat and this time there was murder in her tone. "Fetch me my horse!" she roared, drawing her sword and preparing to leap into battle but it was Ariadne's hand that darted out, thwarting her attempts at vengeance.

"No! Your grace. You do not understand." She bleated.

Hippolyta's eyes blazed. "I understand enough!"

"No." Ariadne snapped, a little more harsher than she intended. "He said that _our_ Gods had promised her to him... as leverage."

"Our Gods!" Hippolyta snarled and she was proud of how steady her voice was. "Leverage?"

Her Majesty's eyes sparkled and they appeared almost dangerous twilight under the flare of a hall lit in Tuscan sun. Ariadne knew that look. It was the same look she had seen countless times before her Majesty would throw herself into battle. The same look that had been in their dear Princess Diana's eyes when she had bravely taken on the man beast that had swept her from this world.

Ariadne swallowed, mentally preparing herself. "Lord Zeus... he has declared war on their God." she countered. "The Princess... was to be taken as leverage against Lord Zeus. That _thing_ killed everyone of our sisters that got in it's way before it got to Diana. And even then Diana didn't make it easy for it."

The thought of what that man creature could've possibly done to her daughter drove Hippolyta to turn her wrath on Ariadne. "You speak in riddles, child!"

Ariadne scrambled for words. "There was a struggle, your Majesty!"

"A... struggle?" Hippolyta repeated, but she felt a wash of grief and fear as defeat seeped into her bones. "Use your words, Ariadne."

"In the throes of battle I myself have never feared any creature that the Gods have thrown our way." Ariadne breathed. "Be it man, beast or any leviathan sent from Tartarus itself. But that _being_... It... I was frightened my Queen."

Hippolyta tightened her brows and she fell silent. Her hand left the sword at her side and she tried to think. This couldn't be some sort of coincidence, something about this felt ill timed. _Planed,_ Hippolyta realized and then suddenly she understood. _Gaea's Tears._ She understood. "Ariadne." She said, in a voice as quiet as the tiniest of whispers. "What was this... God's name?"

Ariadne shook her head, unable to catch on to her Queens train of thought. She wracked her brain, trying to remember. Her mind taking her back to that voice, that name, _that_... Ariadne perked up suddenly. "He said his name was... _Rao_." she rushed out, as if her lungs would burst if she didn't get the words out quick enough.

The name almost sent Hippolyta to the floor. Ariadne's hand tightened on her as she swayed on her feet and she watched in horror as her royal highness grew taut, her legs threatening to give out. "My Queen." she gasped, alarmed by the sight.

But Hippolyta's mind was running on another track.

 _I have to find my daughter._

Or she feared that they were all damned.

One of their Gods had betrayed them and that could only mean one thing. _Hera_... she knew.

* * *

Clark sat and scented the wind. He was vegged out on the porch of the farm and had come to the conclusion that tomorrow morning he would return to the cornfields. It was just peaking evening in their town and the particles in air was still thick with electromagnetic energy. It was a strange kind of verdict really, before today there hadn't been an incident in their town that proved to be something that was far from ordinary, and to have some action going on in Smallville that was besides the obvious petty crimes kind of set Clark back on his heels.

Clark pressed his lips together, deep in thought, he tugged at a stray thread on his jeans before brushing off the remaining lint, then glanced back towards the house just in time to see Ma surface with a bowl of steaming hot cattle soup.

Clark had heard her fumbling about in the kitchen for some time now and had been wondering when she'd step out onto the porch with his supper. His stomach rumbled as his nose picked up on the rich aroma of sesame seed and corn, _damn,_ it smelled good too.

"Here you go, dear." Ma said sweetly, coming down the steps to push the bowl into his hands.

Clark gave her a grateful smile and began to pick at the stew. "Thanks Ma." Judging by the look on Ma's face Clark could tell that she had been wracking her brain for the right approach with him. He decided that he wouldn't help her with it.

Martha stood for a moment, wash rag in tole. "Is that enough for you?" she asked on a hopeful note.

Clark nodded without looking away from his bowl. "It's fine Ma."

Her shoulders fell. "Well, okay then." She sighed, with a hint of disappointment. She gave him careful look as if sizing him up. "Let me know if you need anything." She moved to turn back inside the house when Clark's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Wait, Ma!" He called out, finally turning back to look at her.

Ma almost looked thankful. "Yes dear."

Clark licked his lips. "Did she-"

Martha huffed, throwing her arms up in the air. "Clark Kent." She chastised, her features clouding over with irk. "For the third and final time, _no_. She has not come too... but she will and concerning yourself is only going to get you more worked up."

Clark tore his gaze from her, suddenly feeling like the hugest fool in the world. "I know... You're right." he murmured, just as baffled by his own behavior as Ma appeared to be. "It's just... we have to do everything we can for her Ma." He didn't expect her to understand, and hell, Clark didn't even understand it himself. But something, some gut instinct deep in the soul of him was telling him that this woman needed his help.

Ma's feature smoothed out and her thin lips twitched up into that gentle smile he knew all too well. "We will." she promised, and for the first time in Clark's life he didn't believe her. "Now eat up."

"Enough Ma, I'm not a kid." Clark grumbled.

"Well you could've fooled me." Martha chortled, lightheartedly. "After all, It's a mother's job to worry. Now _eat_."

Clark forced a grin that didn't quite reach his ears and watched as she turned around before disappearing back into the house. _B_ _less her,_ she really did worry too much when it came to him, which he supposed was standard for any mother with her child, biological or not.

Clark sighed and placed the steaming bowl beside him, suddenly not feeling too hungry.

He was to wound up to eat, which was peculiar for him, _I'm distracted_ , he realized. Alas, chalk it down to the events of earlier today. His eyes fell shut and he found himself jutting his chin out heavenward. It felt good to have the warmth of the ascending sun on his cheeks, the dark was fast approaching and before he knew it the moon would be up.

Tonight, he'd have to tune his ears in for any disturbances during the night, because Clark found a much more pressing question brewing within the regions of his mind. Quickly and easily, he realized there was another reason he was tense, a true one. Just what in heaven's name could've followed the mystery woman through that field?

So many questions, and all of them yet to have an answer.

Just when he thought he was about to have a moments peace, his cell phone sounded in his pocket. Clark frowned, shifting awkwardly before fishing the device out of the back pocket of his jeans. He glanced down, raising a dark brow at the name that blinked back at him.

 _Damn_ , it was Lila.

He had been waiting for that phone call and he supposed he owed them all an explanation really, cursing his luck Clark pressed the phone to his ear with a pinch to his brows and just like he'd known it would be the response was instantaneous.

"Joe?" Lila Montgomery's voice buzzed down the line. "Joe, oh thank God, is that you?"

Clark sighed. "Yeah. I'm here Lila."

"Oh God, I was so worried." She chirped hurriedly. "You were there and then you wasn't and I-"

"Lila." Clark interrupted.

Lila fell silent for a moment.

"I'm fine." He said, with as much heart as he dared. The lie came effortlessly to his lips. "I _promise_... I... I just went to see if anyone needed my help." If he closed his eyes Clark could picture her now, boxed into one of the phone machines just outside of Fell's Cabin, the phone cable wrapped firmly around her pinky finger and her lip between her burly teeth.

Lila took a breath and seemed to calm down. Her soft laugh beckoned down the line. "Of course you did." she breathed, dreamily. "That's you isn't it. Always the hero."

Clark replied honestly and this time it came straight from his heart. "I just want to make a difference, Lila."

"I know you do."

No, she didn't. None of them really did. Which was what was so sad about this whole situation. It had been one of the many factors that had driven a wedge between his relationship with Lana. She had never quite been able to grasp his alien side, and he had never really been able to give his heart over to her completely in fear that she would end up hurt. Because when the thought of tomorrow scared you sick, it was hard to make a commitment. Because you didn't want to drag someone else down with you.

Particularly someone you loved.

"You had us all pretty worried there for a second." Lila continued. "Especially Wade. He went out to look for you and... he hasn't come back yet."

Clark grew rigid. He lent forward from his perch on the front porch and his grip on the phone tightened. That peaked his interest. "What?"

He listened as she jumped right in and described a pretty hectic aftermath, that ended, among other things, with Mr Parkman having a heart attack and Wade's disappearance. "It's been chaos here, Joe." He heard people behind her and his suspicion about the payphone outside of Fell's was quickly confirmed. "There was this thing, this creature-"

Worry gripped him for second. "Wait, slow down Lila. What do you mean?" He pressed. "What did you see?"

"I don't really know." The voice came louder through the phone and Clark almost pulled the phone away from his ear; she was probably trying to hear herself over the noise around her.

"It's okay. Just breathe." Clark said, in a stronger voice. "Tell me."

Lila sucked in a sharp breath down the line and this time when she spoke Clark could hear the panic behind her words. "There was a man, I- I don't know if it was a man for certain but i-it looked like one."

Clark's fingers tightened on the cell for the second time as Lila broke off into a sob, the stress of the day no doubt starting to take its toll on her.

He tapped his fingers on the phone, wishing she'd just ask him to go out there. "Are you still at Fells?"

"Yeah. Yeah I'm still here." Lila snivelled and he heard her take in a huge sniff.

He swallowed. "Okay, just stay where you are and I'll come and get you."

He heard her sigh. "Joe..."

"Just stay there, Lila." snarled Clark.

"Okay." Lila relented.

He could imagine Mr Preston trying to hear what Lila was saying, but the last comment was too soft for it. For him, it was the most rational thing she'd said yet. "Don't move." He said again and the moment she hung up the phone, Clark was on his feet and pounding down the porch steps, stumbling on rocks and clumps of grass root. His thoughts had begun to run rampant and Clark found that he could run faster.

So, something had followed the strange woman through that energy field.

 _A threat_ , he thought suddenly. Whatever was happening here was beyond his understanding, was nothing normal or sane and this knowledge to Clark was a petrifying realization. There was no time to explain his sudden departure to Ma or his untouched cattle corn soup, he'd see her later if things went smoothly and he didn't end up dead.

Clark moved swiftly around the rusty pickup truck parked sloppily on the lawn of their farm and fished the keys out from under the body of the car. He slid into the drivers seat, pushed the keys into ignition and the engine roared to life.

It would be better to drive back to Fells Cabin rather than fly. From there he would pick Lila up, drop her home and then he would find his friend. Going back to the cornfields would have to wait.

Wade was missing and it was up to Clark to find him.


End file.
